


Sage and Thyme

by aroogula



Category: Original Work
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Lesbian Character, Undead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 04:39:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14205258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroogula/pseuds/aroogula
Summary: The zombies were heteronormativity all along! A knight and her princess go on a quest to find out miscommunication is everything.





	Sage and Thyme

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written in at least 4 years and this is a work for a class and maybe someday something I wanna finish. I feel like it needs to go somewhere tho so I'm gonna toss it on this rly old unused account.
> 
> Also I wasn't sure abt her last name? It might change...
> 
> If you somehow find this thing enjoy! It's a princess and her knight? Kinda gay.

“You know,” Ray raised her voice noticeably over the stomping of hooves on damp wood. The horse huffed and whinnied as she brushed her chestnut mane, “they say to really get a good night's sleep you should only use one pillow.”

Joan snorted, craning her stiff neck to peer at her briefly, “Oh? And who are ‘they’? The monarchy? The Pillow Enthusiasts of Nilos?” She paused, the horse jerking its leg as she chipped at an apparently tender spot on its hoof, “did ‘they’ also tell you—stop it Jeane—give me your hoof—I’m sorry, okay?” A grunt as the horse nipped at her and shifted, whinnying. She clicked her tongue, tugging on the hoof. A royal horse named Jeane of all things. She could hear the tinkling of Ray’s laugh. “Did they also tell you why you’re a heathen for thinking sleeping with one pillow is okay?” Joan finished, standing, letting the hoof go. Her groan felt ancient, escaping her as she clutched her back, and straightened her spine. She didn’t turn away completely from the horse, being sure to keep an eye on it at least and began collecting her tools.

“I’m just saying,” Ray smiled wide, “if you don’t want that back of yours to hurt so much you should try something different.”

She scoffed, “what I need to do,” Joan smoothed her red hair prickled with hay, tugging at a piece sticking out but resisting removal, “is get out of these damn stables and get to working out on the field. The front lines. Sword and shield kind of shit.”

“You could work for her, the princess I mean,” Ray brushed down the horses’ haunch, moving her head away as a plume of dust puffed in her face, “like you’re supposed to. Being a royal retainer can’t be that bad,” She coughed a bit as the dust found her face anyway.

“Yeah,” Joan chewed on her cheek, “No offense but I’d be doing the same shit I’m doing here. Not that I don’t…like you Ray but heaving horse shit, nearly getting kicked, getting yelled at...” She pointed back to the white horse with a stamp on its haunch proving its heritage as a royal bred, “dealing with her…” The redhead tapered off into a grumble. Almost as if she knew she was being acknowledged, Jeane nickered, mouthing Joan’s messy braid, breathing hot horse breath all over her neck. She shrugged the giant beast off and let herself out of the pen, the gate locking behind her. “Besides,” she made her way over to where Ray was finishing up brushing a knight’s horse across the stable from Jeane, “She’s changed…”

\------

Six months later Ray was dead.

The news, told by a familiar bleary eyed and snotty nosed stable boy, nearly brought Joan to her knees. Begging for answers, she’d torn through the town of the inner gate; her brows knitted in a pained scowl and found herself at the stables, scanning the area almost frantically. No body, no blood, it was strange. Nothing. Joan hardly made a sound as her heavy footfalls were softened by the hay below her feet. She continued to glance around stepping to check every stable and horse but with no sign of anything out of order. She rested her hand against one of the aged wooden posts, still damp from the rain yesterday. Limp splinters of wood pressing into her palm as she rubbed her forehead with her other hand and tried to remember the last time she’d seen Ray. She recalled a moment about a week ago; Ray was still heckling her to join up with the guard (as she always did) but she brought up Alexis and her friendship as if that meant something to Joan.

“You know she cares about you,” was the last thing she remembered Ray saying and she had left in a huff, making the decision to work with some of the farmers within the outer walls for a few days. Joan cursed under her breath and slammed a fist halfheartedly against the post, causing Jeane to stir and huff at her. Maybe if she—

No. She couldn’t be dead.

Two days passed. The princess, speaking in place of her elderly parents who acted now as fixtures collecting dust on their grotesquely ornate thrones, addressed the issue after a few more people turned up dead within the same week. It had been an escapee of the dungeon according to her, someone who, to quote, “had found the wrong God” and made a horrible deal while rotting away for stealing a horse. Someone who went to steal one again (repeat offender, imagine that) and found a girl there instead. He had apparently left a path of utter destruction in his wake with his newfound powers, accounting for the other mysterious deaths, and was killed by the castles guard. Of course, his body and those of the others were never found. Joan, watching from the crowd, clutched at her sword and glared up at the blonde figure, her hair tied back tightly but still blowing in the wind looking like a hazy golden halo and speaking as if nothing were wrong. It was simply a one-time occurrence, Alexis reassured, no reason to be frightened. Everything was being considered and there was no need for panic.

Joan wished it was as easy as that.

Strange tales were often nothing more than a method of explaining things that weren’t yet understood. But Joan had seen nightmare come to life, and despite all of the princess’s excuses, she knew the real reason why so many people had gone missing. She smelled it before seeing it, scouting on the edge of the forest with her mother when she was still only an esquire. She thought it was a dying animal with the shrill and twisted cries it kept making. Her mother had tried to distract her, told her to watch ahead for enemies, but Joan couldn’t help but gawk at it. Her brown eyes widening as she froze in place and it writhed towards them. Nails torn from the nailbeds, gooey fingers bloodied and sunk into scratch marks through the mud, still attempting to drag itself despite its lack of a lower half. The stench especially was something that still haunted her, an off-putting sweetness mixed unpleasantly with the earthiness of caked on dirt. The creature produced a terrifying sound, a long and slow bubbling groan that left its cracked lips as it reached for Joan with its waxy hand. Her mother’s booming voice demanded it was nothing extraordinary, simply an enemy of the country, killed by the castle archers and half eaten by wolves. She swiftly and mechanically drew her sword and ended the thing with a nauseating meaty whack. The look her mother gave her while wiping her blade covered in something too dark to be blood told her to not question the lack of arrow holes or claw marks. They buried it while Joan was scolded to heed her commands.

She spat bitterly at the ground and looked up at the ornate castle, standing amongst stragglers now after the crowd began to dissipate while the princess apologized one last time. With grime between every crack in Joan’s hard-worked hands, she thunked her scabbarded sword into the plush grass and dirt, letting the wind with the faintest smell of stable tussle her braid and the white ribbons tucked into it. She knew it was no evil wizard blessed by evil Gods to do some evil deed. It wasn’t a horse stealing, knife wielding, single occurrence problem either.

From afar, the castle guard and townspeople might have mistaken her for her mother: she was thick and tall with burning red hair, a proud knight overlooking her domain. But her face, scrunched into a scowl as she stared past the castle and upward to the sky dotted with clouds, said otherwise.

“This is for you Ray. You know that?”

\------

The castle town of Nilos being mostly surrounded by vast expanses of forest and farming settlements meant several festivals dedicated to harvest and today was no exception. Joan enjoyed quite a few of them, especially the one right before the hottest months as people bolstered themselves for the big yield and came out in droves. But this day marked two months almost exactly since Joan’s joining up as the royal retainer as well as the princess’s formal announcement. There was a sense in the air that the festival wasn’t only about crops and cows. The hovering unease that Joan felt seemed to infect the early crowds as they moved huddled in little groups, but by late afternoon when more people had gathered, the atmosphere felt more comfortable. Joan was glad the wariness had worn off, it was nice to not have to think about anything but wheat and hands sticky from fried cakes reaching for the princess’s gown. Children with bells and small drums hollered and kicked up dirt, chasing barn cats that were making a run for the food being sold in brightly colored tents. Sun-dried flower petals were scattered into the air, the gentle breeze tossing them around as the princess, donning a bright green dress glided through the streets and greeted her people. Joan kept close watch, Alexis with her sunshine composure and kind words quelled any concern the townsfolk and farmers had. As people moved on, Alexis felt an opportunity to sidle up beside her knight to take a breather.

“Good crowd today, Princess Alex,” The red knight chimed curtly, clutching the cloth-wrapped hilt of her sword with one hand. They stood completely still next to one another, “really good…It’s a good thing there’s nothing more pressing than a harvest festival considering we have the whole town and at least half of the farmers here.”

“Joanna, you know we—I can’t let them know,” Her voice was hushed but sharp.

“Know _what_?” Joan sneered, just loud enough for her to hear, “And don’t call me that.”

Most knew better than to speak to a _princess_ in such an inappropriate manner. Questioning in this way could even be called treachery. But Joan was a young knight whose mother had died too soon and who _apparently_ hadn’t learned enough to keep her mouth shut. She’d been reprimanded for her tongue plenty of times before to know this was exactly how everyone thought of her.

Alexis sighed and pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes and inadvertently rubbed away some of the cakey dark powder she had concealing her blemishes. She looked over at her knight with a grimace. Any stragglers still wanting to see their princess had their attention drawn as a convenient shout rang out. Something about a sheep-shearing contest nearby. Joan, noticing the dark purply splotches under her eyes and the crows’ feet setting deeper and deeper into her skin, started chewing on her lip. Alexis’ matched her gaze angrily, jaw clenching and unclenching as she opened her mouth to start to say something, but a rather loud and shrill interruption caught their attention before the princess could start.

“Princess Alexis, a moment please!” Joan squinted. It was one of the king’s newer clerks, someone she had met only recently— a small, balding man with stout legs—shouting practically halfway across the town. They both turned and watched as he approached, and he had to take a moment before continuing, looking between the two while catching his breath, “Hopefully I’m not,” he huffed, “interrupting anything? I’m very sorry I just—"

“No, it’s alright,” Alexis returned to her gentler expression, but Joan could tell she was still angry, “What is it?”

“Um,” The man seemed to be struggling to catch his breath still, “Well, there’s someone here asking for you by name. He…maybe we should move this someplace else?”

Joan looked up and realized the man’s piercing cries had drawn a bit of a crowd.

The princess beamed, “Ah. Well actually, I will have to decline for the time being. Hopefully our guest can be patient? Our festival is not quite yet over, and I do still have to work with the priestess and ask for a blessing for another good harvest, as I’m sure you are aware.”

“Milady it’s about… _them_ ,” The man’s round face grew impossibly serious as he gestured with his head towards where Joan was sure she had witnessed that corpse all those years ago, “I’m sure _you_ are aware that—"

Alexis clasped his hands, and with a practiced smile she pitched up her voice in a display Joan knew well, “Oh! Of course! _Them_! You should have mentioned that sooner. We should go now, then. We need to greet our guest as soon as we can!” She wrenched her head stiffly, her smile still wide, “Joanna, would you care to join us?”

The knight grimaced at her, but obeyed and followed the two, enjoying herself only for getting to watch the short man scuttling to keep up with the princess’ long strides.

As they walked, Joan could feel eyes on them. The princess apologized the whole way through the calloused hordes of farmers, cobblers, blacksmiths, stable hands. She would make a statement later as she always did for everything else. _Sorry she couldn’t stay and bless the harvest, she really did hate leaving so soon._ Joan thought, snorting audibly and crossing her arms. Her mind had perfectly recreated every single inflection Alex would use.

“N-now,” the king’s clerk scurried, “He’s right inside the waiting chamber. I know it's last minute, I really do hate to take you away from the festival, it’s so important I know,” he wrung his hands as they moved through the main hall, “h-he just seemed so urgent to speak with you. You know your father would but—”

Alexis seemed to have a gentle answer to all of his bumbling and Joan couldn’t help but roll her eyes as they passed through the ornate gateway and further into the belly of the castle proper. Stone floors and walls felt more garish and unwelcoming to her as every moment passed, the hollow sound of the knight’s metal boots clanking around became almost too loud for her to stand. Apparently, Alexis’ parents agreed most people visiting the castle found tapestries of unicorns and dragons and the like interesting. With war stories of conquest dotting every other stone on the doorway of what she knew to be a bedroom there was no other explanation. Why else would they want to decorate the backs of every single chair with the family coat of arms and name?

“You know, Alex, nothing says you have to keep the castle like it is,” Joan huffed, “You agree your parents had bad taste when they were able to make choices.”

Alexis shot her a nasty look as they passed from the main breezeway into the chamber where the man was supposedly expecting them.

“I’m just—Oh.” Joan’s unscrupulous smile faded as she met the gaze of the person before them. The man, if she could really use that term for him, was interesting to say the least. Quite a bit smaller than her, with beady gold-colored eyes that sunk into a head much too small to match his frame. He gave a toothy grin, cracks at the corners of his lips tugging an angry red on grayish skin and curtsied to two of them. His hair, combed against his scalp, was a thin sheet of greasy yellow. From his neck jingled at least ten separate trinkets that Joan could discern.

Alexis chided, “Joanna.”

His smile stayed, and he reached to take her hand, “Ira. Pleasure to meet you, Joanna.”

“No,” Alexis straightened, “Princess Alexis Rhisa of Nilos. Daughter to King Clodomiro Rhisa and Queen Alexandra Rhisa. Joanna,” She motioned towards Joan, “is my own personal knight.” Joan couldn’t help but notice her intentional glance at his hand, despite not taking it.

His smirk widened as he dropped his gesture, “ _Personal knight?_ ” Joan bit her cheek at his imitation of Alexis’ voice, “So it’s like _that_ then?” He looked between the two like a child choosing between favorite candies.

The knight and the princess both scowled.   

It took only a second before Alexis’ cordial demeanor returned, and she gave a polite chuckle, “You must not be from our dear town. I was told you had information of interest to me and my kingdom, but I am not so sure that is the case. If you have lied to my father’s men, then I must ask you to leave.”

The man peered at her with an eerie keenness, “My lady, I seldom lie, worry not. I was merely making an observation about the nature of your ladyness’s and your knights…aura. I apologize if I’ve offended. My eyes aren’t quite what they used to be I suppose,” He tugged at one of the necklaces around his neck. Joan peered down just a bit and saw the outline of a golden eye etched into it. He covered it with his palm, “I do indeed have information for you. About the abominations, of course. I assume that might be the kind of information you’re looking for?”

Alexis blinked at him. Joan raised her eyebrows at her princess. She was surprised she didn’t throw him out for mentioning them so casually.

He continued, “As you can see, I work with a certain…skill.” He gestured to himself, “I have certain knowledge most folk remain oblivious to. Naturally, I would know what you want, princess.”

Joan, who had been taking note of his gesticulations and mannerisms, interjected, “So you’re a witch then.”

His small eyes met with hers, his smile never once falling. He spoke belatedly, “And you’re a smart little knight. I work in the woods; have a small workshop out there protected with all sorts of wonderful wards and incantations and even a few gargoyles. Lately,” he looked away in contemplation, “the last, oh, 30 years or so I’ve noticed an increase in…feelings.”

“Feelings,” Joan snorted. He and Alexis both turned to her and she felt a chill run through her chest.

“What you need,” he gestured for them to lean down, Joan could almost feel his lip hairs on her ear, “is to find the sage.” His smile grew sly and as slimy as his hair looked. He spoke languidly, “Naturally I have a map.” Seemingly from nowhere he pulled a rolled scroll of paper, tethered with a thin string. “Unfortunately, she’s not hiding out in my forest. She doesn’t take too kindly to folk like me. But if you find the sage, you find the answer. Simple, really.”

Joan pulled away from his hissing, her nose scrunched, his ambergris breath lingering, “And why doesn’t she like your ‘kind’? Did you cause all of this?”

The man seemed almost giddy, “You’re also quite suspicious aren’t you. Rightfully so. That’s a good trait to have.” He looked to Alexis then, “A real keeper Milady Alexis,” he said with a crusty wink. He looked back to Joan and continued, “As for your first question, the sage hates magic outside of her own realm. Says it ‘taints the system’ or some such. I think it’s silly, I would’ve gone long ago to ask her I think…” His eyes were distant, but he returned and placed a hand on his chest, “and as far as myself causing all of this…well you’ll just have to trust the word of an old witch. I _was_ granted an audience though. That must mean you’re at least a little desperate?” There was a glint in his eye, “I promise my word is good. The sage _will_ help you. In the meantime, I can do my best to keep the…aberrations at bay and your people safe.”

Joan eyed him, “And how do you know about her? How do you know she can help?” She could hardly believe he was any older than herself and Alexis.

He simply kept up his smile, “She’s a sage. You do know what that is?”

Joan growled, beginning her rebuttal but Alexis gave her a disappointed glare and interjected, “Joanna I hardly think you are in the right to be the one asking the questions. This is not your decision to make in the end.”

Instead of snapping back, Joan’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion and she hesitated, looking between the two a moment before pulling the princess aside.

“Joanna,” Alexis sighed, “Please.”

“Look, I know we don’t get along,” Joan pushed back the frizzy strands of red threatening to escape her braid, “I know we haven’t for...A while but as your knight I don’t trust him, and I don’t think you should either. Alex he’s unnatural. He said so himself. Can we even say for sure he's telling the truth?”

“I can actually still hear you, little knight.”

The princess glanced over at him, regaining her demeanor before looking back at Joan. Her nostrils flared, and Joan swore she looked at least twenty years older. She let out an exasperated breath closing her eyes, but her shoulders stayed stiff as she spoke deliberately, “Joanna. You wanted me to deal with this issue. I am dealing with it. I had warned you that I cannot let the people know about the creatures and this man promises he can keep my castle and town safe while I do my job,” She opened her eyes, “What I need you to understand here and now is that _you_ are my knight and _I_ am your princess and the princess of my citizens. I have been trained my entire life, even when we were both children, how to protect them with grace and finesse. My parents abdicated the responsibility of the throne before I was even done with my tutelage. As your mother once aided this kingdom as my father’s knight, I expect as her daughter and a knight in liege to these people and to me that you listen to what I have to say for once. You do not get to make this decision. I do.”  

Joan’s chest deflated a bit and looked to her left and then to her right, as if there was a crowd gathering. She felt as though her mother would come marching in at any moment to follow up, but the silence of the room grew painfully loud save a distracted humming from Ira. Her eyebrow twitched, and she crossed her arms, giving Alexis a nod, and a jumble of incoherent murmuring in agreement and stepped back.

Alexis took up the space between the two then and flatly said, “Give us time to plan, Ira. I am not conceding, nor am I agreeing. We just need time to consider. I should only need a day’s time.”

“Of course,” His teeth glinting even more gleeful than before as he made direct eye contact with Joan, “As much as you need, Milady.”


End file.
